An Angel Will Die
by 1DBromances
Summary: He hadn't choosen this life, another cruel force had. Though it was a cruel force that he couldn't blame, for Harry knew that this was all his own fault in some twisted way or another. Beeing a prostitute was a hard and sometimes painful job, but it had to be done, right? A Larry Stylinson Fic! Warnings in the first Chapter! Slash!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so this is actually a story that I've firstly posted on my other account because I am actually pretty proud over it and I have more readers on the other one, but I thought that I might as well post it here too seeing that it is a Larry fic :) So this is a Prostitute!AU which means that it really won't be a happy story, really really sad actually.. But I've heard from my lovely beta that it is beautifully written, so why not check it out? ;) **

**Warnings: **Prostitution, undreage sex, abuse, graphic violence, pretty much any terrible thing you can imagine.. _Sorry if I do offend people.. xxxFanny _

_This chapter is actually not so bad, but I promise you that it will get much much worse, which means that I'm a terrible person for even making it up! _

**_Enjoyyyy! :D xxx_**

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Harry groaned as he sat up in his dirty bed, the sheets were crumpled and turning brown with holes scattered all over the once white clean sheets. He looked down sadly and started to play with the small holes. They were the same size as many of the scars that were prickling his small white body, scars after cigarettes.

Harry just sat there for a while wondering how his once good life could've turned out the way it had. His eyes left the small gaps on the browning sheets to fall on the top paper of the notepad that was placed beside the old phone on the small table which was broken. One of its legs were missing so to compensate he'd placed old magazines under it. His poor and messy handwriting were engraved in the old notepad.

Mr. Bocombi 11pm Vickers Street 16

Harry's eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the message. It surprised him that he could write so well without going to school since he was eight. But despite the pleasant surprise he couldn't be happy, he missed school and desperately wanted to go back. But he knew that it would be impossible, life is unfair and that's it.

He didn't want to go to Mr. Bocombi because whenever he left the old man's mansion he would always leave with a new bruise or cut. But he had to take it, he had to take the beating and the sharp tools Mr. Bocombi used on him. He just had to, because the old man did always pay too much and Harry needed the money.

Harry didn't believe that a person could ever be evil, but Mr. Bocombi was really fucking close. Maybe that's why he always paid a huge sum of money, maybe he felt bad for raping and hurting a kid. At least that's what Harry wanted to think, he needed to have faith in the cruelest humans walking this planet. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to make it through the day.

Harry didn't want to think that Mr. Bocombi only paid him that much because he couldn't see if he handed Harry hundreds of pounds rather than tenners. He wanted to believe that Mr. Bocombi thought of him as more than the dirty whore that Harry truly was. But Harry knew better, he knew what customers truly thought of him, though he could have faith, he could hope right?

Harry continued to scan the note and saw a sentence that made an unfamiliar smile curl his dry, pink lips.

Waterhorn clinic Friday 1th

One of his clients, Mr. Malik had managed to figure out his birthday. Mr. Malik had always been nice to Harry, he'd never hurt the kid and was always careful with him, even though everything he did with Harry was so wrong on so many levels.

But Harry liked him anyways, maybe even more now when Mr. Malik had bought him a gift for his birthday. It wasn't much and Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to take it as an insult or not. He'd decided that it wasn't an insult, decided that Mr. Malik only was concerned for him and that's why he'd made an appointment at the clinic where Harry would get different treatments, health checkups and STD checkups then the rest of his appointment time he would get spa treatments, massages and a buffét card.

Harry really liked that gift, it would take him away from reality for a little while, and it would give him time to dream about being a kid. It would give him an escape from being that kid who sells sex for money.

One thing that really surprised him was that his pimp let him get all these treatments. Cox had said that as long as it didn't cost him anything Harry could go, though only if Harry would escort Mr. Bocombi for the night and get him heroin. For Harry that wasn't really a hard choice. So in a couple of hours he would head off to the old man's house and after their appointment he would go to Payne for the drugs.

Harry looked down at his pale body, there too were many scars marring his young body. He was starting to get worried, he wouldn't be so appealing to his customers if there were too many wrongs, too many errors with him, if he wasn't flawless. But there were not much he could do, he couldn't really fight against the full grown men that did these horrible things against him. He knew that and he knew that they knew that. Some of the more brutal men liked it and got off by hurting him, hearing him cry out in pain as something sharp or hot tortured his skin. They felt bigger and better by making him feel like useless shit on the ground.

Even though they did these terrible things to him, he couldn't really blame them or fear them. Harry knew that he deserved this, it was his own fault for being a whore. No one liked prostitutes and that's why he deserved it all.

Harry dragged himself out of his bed, well he didn't really afford a bed so it was more an old mattress on the floor. He dragged his hands over his face before collecting the energy he needed to get through the dreadful day and night.

Once out in the small, small kitchen he searched the cabinets for something to eat today, there wasn't anything there except for some old crackers and a small bag of coffee. He didn't want to deal with all this, he hadn't asked for this life. It was handed to him and he did not want it.

"You're up early." A soft voice stated as a pair of warm arms wound around his petite frame. A pair of cold lips was pressed against his shoulder which made it obvious that Louis had just gotten home.

"We don't have any food." Harry stated bluntly with an empty look in his eyes.

"I know, but we haven't had any for days." The shorter boy answered. Really? Harry was surprised by that statement. He hadn't been home in the last couple of days, at least not long enough to make something to eat, though honestly he hadn't allowed himself to feel the hunger that was gnawing in his stomach.

Harry turned in the shorter boy's arms to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief. "But what have you been eating then?" He asked, even though Harry was younger he still felt the need to look out for the smaller boy.

"A little bit of this and that I could find on the streets." Louis answered with a sad smile whilst a blush coloured his cheeks. It was clear that he was embarrassed about the fact.

Harry felt sour hate towards their pimp troubling his stomach, along with the hunger. But the hate was hundreds of times stronger than the hunger that was barely bothering him anymore.

It just wasn't right that Louis would have to suffer when it was Harry who had dragged him into all of this. Harry had moved to London five years ago, his mother wasn't able to take care of him anymore so she shipped him of to her brother, which seemed as a good decision at that time. Harry had a good first year, being eight in London was a bit stressful yes but he made a few friends in school and everything was good.

But then his uncle wanted him to do other things and how could Harry fight against that? He couldn't instead Louis did, Louis, who was a couple of years older than Harry. Who was so sweet and protective of Harry. Louis who was so, so beautiful and feminine, which was a thing their pimp had noticed and wanted to take advantage of. Their pimp wasn't someone who asked nicely, he took what he wanted and there was nothing you could do about it. Fortunately for him Louis' family had been torn from life a couple of years back, so no one would report the boy missing.

Their pimp used them for money and dough and there was nothing they could do about it. It was impossible for them, two kids, to break free from him.

"Louis." Harry whispered and reached up to stroke the older boy's cheek. "I am so sorry for dragging you into this." He regretted it so much now.

"It's okay Haz, it would've happened anyway. A ten year old kid living on the streets, there was no way that I could've changed this. It was surprising that I managed to last as long as I did." Louis affirmed and then leaned closer to Harry and placed a soft kiss on his chest.

"Did you just come home?" Harry asked desperately, wanting to change the uncomfortable conversation topic. "I missed you last night."

"Yeah, had a costumer who wanted the entire night and then this morning when he handed me the envelope it contained way too much money." Louis explained. "So I thought that we could keep the money we don't have to give to Cox, we could go and buy some food." He said and looked up at Harry nervously to see his reaction.

Stealing money from Cox was something very dangerous, they both knew that as they thought back and remembered the time when they'd had one more roommate, but they needed food.

"Keep them, I might be able to get some more money from Mr. Bocombi tonight." Harry said. Louis winced as Harry mentioned the violent old man. "We'll be able to pay Cox with them, he won't notice a thing." Harry tried convincing both him and Louis, though that was a pretty hard task.

"When do you have to go?" Louis asked as he released Harry and walked into their bedroom/kitchen/living room to drop off the old and torn jacket that they shared. Then he walked back to where Harry was standing, still waiting for an answer.

"Well I don't have to be there until eleven, but I'm planning to be there earlier. Maybe we'd get more money because of that." Harry sighed and dragged his hands down his face. He really didn't want to spend more time than necessary with the man, but he did what he had to if it meant that they could get something to eat.

"Just be careful please." Louis pleaded and pulled the younger boy down for a kiss once he'd nodded. Louis was the only one who was allowed to kiss him. He didn't do kisses, no matter how much he was paid. It felt too intimate and wrong to share a kiss with anyone but Louis. He didn't love anyone but Louis, so why kiss them? He thought as his lips were molded to Louis' in the most perfect of kisses.

"Will you be home tonight?" Harry asked after they'd pulled away.

"Yes." Louis smiled slightly at the thought of a little freedom from his cruel life. "That's if Cox doesn't want me to escort some old man who pays enough." He added and his small smile faltered.

The hate started to boil inside of Harry once more, he hated this, loathed it all. Louis' once beautiful and carefree smile was now so unfamiliar on his face during the rare occasions it made itself known. It was the situation he'd lured them into that had that brutal effect on the older boy. Even his once sparkling eyes, that had been so full of life, were now dull and lifeless. It was so scary to see the one he loved turn into this, this lifeless puppet controlled by the most ruthless of people.

"I will get you out of this, that's a promise." Harry whispered and looked earnestly into Louis' grey eyes. Louis only returned the proclamation with a sad smile, but Harry could see that little spark of life in his eyes that left them a little bit bluer. But not even near the exquisite colour they'd once been.

…

Harry stood outside the vast mansion which was Mr. Bocombi's house. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt nervously. This wasn't exactly something he wanted to do on the hours before his birthday. But he knew that it was essential. He looked inside through window placed on the side of the massive wooden door. The small hall beyond was dimly lit and he could see no life whatsoever.

Harry though about maybe just turning back the way he came and go home to Louis' warm arms. But he knew that Cox really wouldn't appreciate that. Even if Harry told him that no one was in the house when he arrived. Cox would somehow manage to blame him and what would happen after that would be no pretty sight. Harry decided that he actually preferred Mr. Bocombi's abuse in front of Cox'. Because when Cox got angry nothing could stop him.

Harry reached up and rapped his clenched fist against the hard wood once again. It was weird, Mr. Bocombi was always home and he couldn't be busy because he didn't have a work, he was too rich according to himself, he had staff who took care of all the shopping he needed and he didn't have any family either, so why wasn't he answering. Maybe he is dead... Harry assumed, but the small thought instantly scared him. It scared him because of the warm feeling that spread through his thin body the instant he thought it. Harry wasn't a malicious person, but the thought about the older man made him question that statement.

However, Harry didn't have time to ponder over that as a heavy lock was turned and the door slowly creaked open to reveal a young boy. The boy, who couldn't have been older than Harry himself, looked up at him through blue scared eyes while biting his bottom lip nervously. He had blond hair which Harry instantly connected to blond hair dye, his blue eyes which were trained on Harry had the most stunning shade and they were so full of life that Harry's own started to tear up. The only thing he was wearing was a way too big button-down shirt that barely covered his pale body as it was torn and full of holes.

"Yes?" The boy uttered, it was a fragile and broken sound which complemented well with the scared boy. A small hand went up to his cheek, which was red and had long finger marks displayed for Harry to see, and it was obvious that the small boy was trying to hide the fact that he'd been hit.

"I'm here for Mr. Bocombi." Harry said after a little while, he was desperate to help the boy. But he knew that there was nothing he could do. Without the money he would get from Mr. Bocombi the boy would stand no chance with his pimp, Harry knew that much.

"Um, he's busy." The boy winced and looked to the side through teary eyes.

"I know." Harry whispered brokenly, the tone in his voice seemed to catch the boy's attention and he looked up at Harry with huge scared eyes. "He ordered me." Harry continued with a small sigh. The boy slowly shook his head and tried to protest as Harry pushed his way through the door. "Listen to me." Harry started and bent down to the boy's eyelevel. "I'll get you your money and when you got them you go and give them to your pimp and then you leave. You have to leave this life." Harry said sincerely. The small boy nodded hesitantly then looked up at him with an expression filled with hope.

Harry walked through the scary house with the boy stumbling after him in silence. It was obvious that the boy was scared and Harry wanted to reassure him that everything would be alright, but he didn't want to distress the boy further.

"What's your name?" He asked after a little while of dwelling if it was okay to ask such a question which was deemed very private in their job. The boy tensed a little before opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, clearly wondering whether he should answer honestly or not. He decided to answer honestly because he'd already started to trust the other boy. The curly lad had said that he'd get him his money and get him away from this horrific place.

"I'm Niall." He whispered nervously with a clear Irish accent. Harry wondered what the Irish boy did here in England but didn't want to leave hanging by not returning the favor.

"My name's Harry, do you mind telling me how old you are Niall?" Harry asked and wondered if he'd gone too far when the boy didn't answer.

"Fourteen." The hesitant answer came after a while of walking. Oh? Harry thought suddenly a bit unnerved. He'd thought the boy was younger than him, at least the same age. But he didn't have time to dwell on that further since them both stopped in front of a closed door.

"Look, let's do like this." Harry started and bent down to Niall's level again and made sure that those stunning blue eyes were focused on him before starting to speak. "We both go in there and I'll do all the talking, then I'll make sure that you can leave fast with the money and I'll make sure that there's extra cash alright?" He said low and quickly, scared that Mr. Bocombi would overhear their conversation. The older boy only nodded with a small thankful smile. "Good, just be calm and indifferent." Harry muttered afore placing his hands on the cool door and pushed forward.

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**So what did you think? please leave me a message in form of a review! **

**Thanks for reading!:D **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiii lovelies! Here's chapter two! And I want to warn you now that this and the next chapter is/will be very brutal and horrible! The violence is pretty graphic so if you can't read it then don't. Though I hope that you'll all like it! and please let me know id you do! :D **

******Warnings: **Prostitution, undreage sex, abuse, graphic violence, pretty much any terrible thing you can imagine.. _Sorry if I do offend people.. xxxFanny _

**Enjoyyyy! xxx **

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The room was very familiar to Harry and, like the rest of the house, it was poorly lit. The dark room contained a large, ancient timber wardrobe, a desk in the same style and wood as the wardrobe, an open fireplace in the corner of the room, smoking heavily as if something that shouldn't have been burned had been exactly that burned, and then the huge bed which for the moment was occupied by Mr. Bocombi.

"Took you long enough, son." His gravelly voice filled the room and the two boys tensed. Harry stared at the disgusting man, he saw how the sheets were crumpled and he could smell the suffocating odor of sweat and sex in the room. Clearly he'd been too late to save the scared and molested boy from Mr. Bocombi's filthy hands. The man sprawled on the bed was bloated, he had thinning greasy hair and right now his red puffy face was coated in a thin layer of stinking fluid. His eyes were closed as he was smoking one of the cigarettes that had left so many small scars all over Harry's body. "Who the hell is interrupting at this time?" Mr. Bocombi asked. Harry looked at the fat man, disgust dancing in his green eyes. But it was obvious that he couldn't say anything to the man about that, in this job you just had to stand the more.. disgusting clients, because nine out of ten times they were the ones who paid the best.

"Mr. Bocombi." Harry said, trying to sound strong and confident while inside all he wanted to do was to run and hide. The fat man huffed before struggling to sit up on the dirty bed. His small piggy eyes zeroed in on the young boys standing in the middle of the dark room. The small blond one, who was shaking furiously and were hiding slightly behind the curly haired boy. Mr. Bocombi snorted at the sight of the blue eyed, innocent boy. Sure Niall was beautiful, which was a thing that was very important to Mr. Bocombi, looks were valued highly in his opinion. If you weren't beautiful or young enough for that matter, then Mr. Bocombi wouldn't choose you to be his prostitute. And despite the horrible things Mr. Bocombi did to his sex slaves, they still wanted him, he paid well and money was all that mattered. But Niall had cried and complained way too much, he doubted that he would want the boy's services again, so he let his eyes wander to the other boy. He was really beautiful, silky, soft locks framed his face, the face of an angel. Though Mr. Bocombi rater liked that face screwed up in pain, it was hot and he loved to see what power he had over the young boy.

"Harry my boy!" He said pleasantly surprised, his face screwed up in something that had a slight resemblance to a smile. Harry knew that he was the man's favorite hooker because before Niall, Harry was the only one who didn't protest against Mr. Bocombi's violence, he couldn't, he was too weak to make any struggle against Mr. Bocombi's power.

"Yes, I thought that I would get here a little earlier." Harry said and gave the man a weak smile. "But then I saw that you have company… maybe I should come back later?" He asked while taking a small step backwards and turning slightly towards the door with a fake look of doubt on his face. Niall's breath got caught in his throat and the blue eyed boy's panicked gaze fell upon Harry who he'd thought only wanted to help him, betrayal was dancing in his Cerulean eyes alongside the tears that threatened to fall.

"No, no my boy." The corrupt man breathed heavily as if speaking were making him breathless. "Niall here was just about to head out, too tight and childish anyway, cried for nothing and then he didn't shut up when I told him to." The man sighed tiredly while speaking about Niall as if the boy wasn't in the room at all. The boy in question though, looked down and silently let the tears roll down his face, it wasn't as if he liked what he did, that was far from the truth, but his client was disappointed with him and that was what scared him because disappointment often lead to him being hit by his pimp and not getting a call back from the client he'd disappointed which meant no money. And Niall desperately needed the money to survive, though like Harry had said, Niall kept his mouth shut. "Hand him the amount you usually get." Mr. Bocombi said and pointed to his full wallet with a thick index finger.

"Yes sir." Harry made a little bow because he knew that would only give him plus points in the fat man's books and that way he might get away easier, without too much violence.

Harry took Niall's shaking hand and led him over to the desk where the heavy leather wallet lay. He placed them both so that they were stood with their backs to the bed, therefore skillfully hiding how many bills Harry handed the boy. Harry hurriedly took out way too many bills and quickly pressed them into Niall small trembling hand. Then he turned back to the man who was on his back and smoking the small roll again.

"Mr. Bocombi?" Harry started and the man grunted in response. "Is it possible for me to show Niall out? He didn't find his way around." Harry explained, the tone in his voice along with the eye roll suggested that he thought Niall was pathetic but of course it was only an act. He remembered how hard he'd had to find his way out the first time he was here, way, way back.

"Make it quick." The fat man rumbled and brought the repulsive cigarette to his pudgy mouth and took a long drag before pushing the grey smoke out between his lips. The smoke curled its way up towards the ceiling and Harry watched it mesmerized. The small tug at his hand brought him back to reality and he remembered the task he had in front of him that needed to be done and solved.

"Yes of course sir." He said quickly, and turned around to face the boy in the shredded shirt. "Your clothes?" He asked the smaller boy who looked up at him with big teary eyes. Harry looked down at him confused; why didn't he do or say anything? Slowly, the boy raised a small shaking finger to the open fireplace as a tear rolled down his battered scarlet cheek. Harry looked over and saw the remnants of something that could've been a pant leg, his brows creased as he watched the black pile and the small orange flames.

Quickly he tugged at Niall's hand and hurried out of the gloomy room, he wanted to get the other boy out of this place of horror as fast as he possibly could. He didn't want the boy to suffer through more hurt than he already had. And he wanted to save whatever innocence there was to save within Niall. And it was thoughts as those that spurred Harry on so that the two fairly young boys made their way down to the main entrance rapidly. Niall's hand was clamped urgently to Harry's the entire time and Harry couldn't help but think that the boy couldn't have been in this business for long.

When they were standing safely by the door Harry shrugged off his own jacket and pulled it around the smaller boy. Mr. Bocombi had burnt up all of his clothes and that left Harry both fuming and filled with terror. He couldn't understand how someone would do that to a kid, hooker or not.

"Thank you Harry." The boy whispered and looked into the other boy's lifeless green eyes. Harry only gave him a quick nod, unsure how he should retort to the gratitude sent his way.

"Take care will you." He said instead and the boy nodded jerkily. "Just remember what I said earlier, do everything you can to get out of this business." He smiled down at the older boy who looked back at him with an expression so grateful and full of life that Harry had no choice than believe that the boy would make it out safe and sound. "I have to go, bye Niall."

"Bye Harry." Was the thin response before the door was closed in his face and therefore cut off any sound from outside the house. Harry turned his back to the door and slumped against it with a heavy exhale. He had to prepare himself for the night he was about to spend at this horrible house with the dreadful man who were waiting for him. He wanted to stay there, slumped against the door and forget about the mess that was his life. He wanted to take Louis's hand in his and then just leave, leave this life forever. They could grow up together and when they were old enough they could get decent jobs, and then move into a real apartment when their finances allowed them. They could even start a family, save kids from their future if it was to resemble the life he and Louis lived now. But that were thoughts to save for later, now he had a job to do.

He pushed himself of the dark painted door and started to make his way back to the familiar room. Soon he was outside the same door he'd walked out through a little while ago and once again he gave it a light push so that it opened without difficulty. Silently, he stepped over the threshold and made his way into the room which fortunately didn't smell as strongly as before, though it still reeked like rotten flesh. His eyes landed on the now empty bed and his brows shot up in confusion and surprise.

"Mr. Bocombi?" Harry asked aloud. He looked around searching for something that might give the man away, but the room looked exactly like the state he'd left it in except the loss of the huge man. Harry started to get scared; there weren't exactly many places the fat man could hide so it was weird that he hadn't noticed him yet.

Suddenly the parquet floor behind him creaked but before Harry even had the chance to turn around something hard smacked him in the head and the boy fell forward. Harry grunted in agony from the pain in the back of his head and knees from when his kneecaps slammed into the hard floorboards. He tried to blink away the tears that formed in his eyes rapidly as they clouded his vision.

"Get up!" The fat man grunted and walked around Harry's fragile body, which was bent over the floor. Harry's breath hitched as the pain in his knees made it impossible to move. A meaty hand grasped around his thick curls and yanked him upwards. Clearly the flattery he'd sent the fat man's way earlier hadn't made any difference, if anything it'd only made him more violent.

Harry cried out in pain as he could feel his hair being pulled out by the roots and the way his knees protested painfully as they were straightened. He had to stand on the tip of his toes to avoid being lifted from the floor entirely, and he desperately tried to avoid shedding tears. "When I tell you to do something, you do it!" The man nearly yelled into Harry's face and hot spit rained over his skin, making Harry wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." Harry muttered through shaky breaths. Mr. Bocombi released Harry's curls and the boy's feet fell back to the ground. His knees bent in a painful angle, but he fought against falling flat to the floor again. The old man's hand shot out to caress Harry's clothed chest and Harry had to fight with all he had not to swat away the prying hand. The man wobbled around Harry's tiny frame, his hand still connected to Harry in some way.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the hand made it to his bum and clawed at it slowly and hungrily. No matter how much Harry wished, the hand wouldn't leave his body. The corrupt man continued his trip around Harry and soon he was in front of the small boy again with his hand attached to the young one's crotch, massaging it eagerly. A whimper slipped through the boy's lips that he'd pressed together tightly as a heavy tear fought its way out from his clenched eye.

The fat impatient fingers started to work on the buttons of his button-down shirt but soon became tired and clenched the fabric and yanked it different ways instead. The shirt ripped in two loudly and Harry started trembling as the prying hands started to travel over his naked skin. The pedophile grunted in pleasure as Harry let yet another whimper escape his lips and the familiar uneasy feeling settled deep in his stomach again.

Mr. Bocombi was stood in front of the small trembling boy watching him with his hungry pig eyes. The obese man reached up to push his greasy and sweaty fringe out of his flustered face, then placed his fingers on the boy's trouser hem and yanked them down, along with his underpants, eager to reveal what lay beneath those layers of unnecessary clothes. Harry's body tensed as he was suddenly entirely exposed in the dark room, watched by watery eyes, but he sternly willed himself to remain calm and act as normal as possible.

"Lay on the bed, on your stomach." The heavy bloke demanded and Harry knew that he had no choice but oblige, if he didn't want to get hurt further. Slowly he did as he was told and moved over to the bed, carefully lying down on top of the dirty sheets which were drenched in stinking moist. He tried hard not to gag from the smell but it was difficult, especially when hands travelled down his spine and continued to his inner thighs. The warm sweaty hands pried his legs apart harshly.

Harry's breath hitched and he started to choke out quiet sobs. Fat tears rolled down his colour drawn cheeks and landed heavily on the dirty mattress beneath him. He just laid there taking it all, because he knew that there was nothing he could do, no matter how much he wanted the fat guy to get off of him and stop touching and using him.

Harry started to shake when he heard a belt unbuckle and then be slowly drawn out of the loops it had formerly rested in. He could practically feel the way the leather was strained in strong hands and winded around one of them. He knew what would happen next, it had happened so many times before and Harry had marks, scars all over his back, bum and the back side of his thighs to prove it.

The heavy metal belt buckle slammed down harshly on his back and he cried out in pain. The fat tears only started to run faster down the boy's cheeks and his small body started to shake from all the heaving.

The perverted man behind him smiled in pleasure, the violence he forced onto the small body beneath him made him feel bigger and better and gave him some sort of sick pleasure. The boy's whimpering and cries only made the bulge in the man's dirty underwear grow. He loved how the small boy could provide no resistance, he had to take it. He lifted the hand which held the belt and slammed it down on the naked skin of the boy's back with as much force he could muster. The weighty metal connected with the boy's flesh and a sickly loud thump sound through the dark and stinking room, the noise gruesomely warm and fleshy.

Harry wound his fists around the damp sheets and bit his tongue so hard that it broke, he could feel his teeth sink through the soft flesh. The metallic tasting fluid filled his mouth but he couldn't swallow so when the buckle slammed down on his body for the fourth time he spluttered while trying to get oxygen into his screaming lungs. The crimson fluid sprayed out over the sheets which made a beautiful contrast to the dirty white bed clothing. His back were aching and swelling with every second that went, but the burning pain gave him cruel comfort.

The belt buckle slammed down one last time, the strongest blow yet and the scream that sounded through the room was tragic and broken. The boy on the bed relaxed and slumped on the mattress as the belt was dropped to the floor, hoping that the abuse would be over for this time. His back was burning and it hurt so much, he could hear nothing but his own thumping pulse and thick breathing. He wished he was someone else, the wish tore through his insides as the fat hand grasped his curls again and pulled. He was flung around and his sore back slammed against the mattress which had Harry crying out in pain once again.

Harry's scared teary eyes fell on the burly figure that were swaying over to the desk and opened one of the drawers. His breath got stuck in his throat when he saw what the fat man took out of the drawer. Harry tried to move, tried to run but his back and knees were screaming in protest and wouldn't cooperate. So he was stuck watching the man walking back to the bed, an evil gleaming in his pig eyes.

Harry's terror filled eyes landed on the four long ropes the man were holding in one hand and then his gaze flicked to the other which held a small and very sharp army knife which was glistening beautifully because of the dull light from open fireplace where Niall's clothes were still smoldering. Harry watched on, paralyzed from fear he couldn't even utter a small whimper. Whatever the man that Harry didn't recognize any longer was about to do to him, it sure as hell couldn't end well for him.

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**So yeah, violent huh? I'm sorry for it and I understand if you hate me! I'm gonna go and hide from your wrath now, but please let me know what a horrible person I am by reviewing! 10 reviews maybe? :) **

**Thanks for reading! Now review! xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here's chapter three for you guys! I have to warn you that the violence is very graphic but after this chapter it will hopefully only get better! :P **

**Enjooooy! :D xxx**

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Harry almost yelled and started to kick when the obese man grabbed both of his feet and then tied them to the wooden loops which were fastened to bedpost at the end of the bed, but he kept a straight face, well as straight as he could muster. Harry thought that this was the sole purpose for those loops. They were there only so that Mr. Bocombi could tie his victims to the bed. No matter how much he fought, the fat hands just wouldn't release his feet, until they were fastened to the loops with the thick rope. His legs were spread in an awkward and uncomfortable angle, his knees pointing inwards while his feet were pointing outwards. This position had the effect that Harry couldn't move the upper part of his body except his arms and they were constantly flailing in the air, trying to fight away the hands that were now reaching for them.

Mr. Bocombi tied the rope so hard around Harry's hands that after merely a couple of seconds they were turning purple and numb. Harry wiggled his fingers but the only thing he got out of that was the creepy feeling of seeing your fingers move frantically but not being able to feel them and when they flapped against his skin that actually got blood they were either flaming hot or ice cold. Harry tried to struggle against the ropes that were holding him, but at best they were only making small whining sounds from when the fibers were rubbed together. Though they didn't move or loosen one bit, Harry let a sigh of defeat slip through his bloodied lips which drew an evil chuckle from the fat man that now were stood beside him with the small army knife raised.

"Please." Harry whimpered and tried to shed away from the sharp edge of the knife. He was scared, Mr. Bocombi had never used knives on him before. A stray scissor, needles and cigarettes yes, but never a sharp knife. Harry looked up in the red and sweaty face, pleading silently but the cruel man only gave him a gruesome smirk in return as he brought the knife down to the boy's lips. He dragged the cool metal along the red lips, coating it in the crimson liquid the action made Harry press his lips tighter together. The sharp knife moved down his chin and throat, soon it made a trail of blood on the boy's naked chest.

"Isn't that beautiful?" The obese man breathed as he watched the knife making attractive red patterns over the white skin, seemingly mesmerized. "We are going to make some more of these soon, but I think that we need more of this beautiful ink… Don't you Harry?" Harry didn't answer, he didn't dare to. He was afraid of what was to come so all he did was to shut his eyes and hum quietly to himself, a song that Louis had sung to him the first time he'd come home from Mr. Bocombi embarrassed, hurt and abused. It was a beautiful melody which would calm him in the scariest and most stressful moments because it brought images of Louis to the front of his mind, images where they both were happy and smiling.

The pain came as a shock to Harry, he didn't know where it came from but it made him scream none the less. The images of a happy Louis were instantly shattered because of the pain and his humming stopped abruptly. Harry's eyes flung open and widened as his scream of agony only got higher and lighter. He looked down at where he pain was strongest and his eyes widened more if that was even possible.

Mr. Bocombi was hovering over his right thigh, the knife was attached to his pale skin and dark blood welled out from the cut it had made as it sliced through the scarred skin. The blood tickled his sensitive skin, but all the feelings were dulled because of the agony that was flaring in his thigh. The crimson fluid flooded over and stained the sheets, but Harry couldn't care less. It hurt so bad that all he could do was to scream, a broken and pain filled scream. As his scream only got louder, the knife cut deeper and Harry was sure that he was going to pass out from the pain. He was thrashing on the bed doing the best he could to get away from the knife and the mad man who was using it. But the ropes held him down, no matter how much he yanked and shook them.

Big tears filled his eyes along with white blinking lights. The cruel laugh that filled the room scared Harry, he didn't want this, he'd never wanted this. It was awful and horrifying. Who in their right mind even wanted to fuck a thirteen year old boy, no one. He cast a look down at the obese man through his tear filled eyes and knew that this man wasn't in his right mind and that's why he did things like this, he got off by hurting kids and raping them. Harry knew that, his pimp knew that and Louis did. That's why Harry couldn't understand why he had to go to this man, why he had to be abused. Why wouldn't anyone stop it, because he pays enough, more than enough. A little voice whispered in the back of his head and Harry knew that was true, why would his pimp get rid of someone that was rich and gave his hookers more than they deserved.

The knife was lifted from his bleeding flesh and the cruel laugh got higher.

"Now isn't that a pretty sight?" The man's voice boomed through the room. "It's beautiful and suits you well my son."

"Don't call me that, fucker!" The words slipped through his red lips before he could reconsider saying them. But it was already too late, he couldn't erase them now. Instead he raised his eyes and looked the man confidently in the eyes. He didn't know why he did it, maybe he just wished that he could see at least a little bit of remorse in the black eyes that were widening as the fat man took in his words, maybe he hoped that the man wasn't pure evil.

However Harry saw no remorse, just a lot of pride and dark immorality. He tore his gaze away, not wanting to look in such deep pools of evil thoughts and madness. Harry could practically hear the knife slash through the air and the sound that left his mouth the second it slammed down on his other thigh was heartbreaking and filled with so much terror that it made the fat man's eyes tear up. Harry struggled to get air into his lungs but it was impossible, it was almost as if his airways had closed up. The knife bored down through the soft flesh and soon it hit the bone which made Harry scream out in agony again. Though the knife was shortly drawn away from the boy's flesh and his feet were released from the rope that had burned itself into his skin, Harry almost let out a sigh of relief as the knife was pressed into one of his blue hands, that way he'd be able to release himself when Mr. Bocombi had passed out from exhaustion.

The man made his way up on the bed, Harry's legs were lifted and placed around the fat man's hairy waist. Harry let the small sigh of relief slip through his lips though it was broken and pained because of the agony boiling in his entire body, finally they were about to do what he was here for so that he could leave soon. The obese male drew off his boxers with a bit of struggle and then threw them on the floor. His fat and greedy hands ran down Harry's chest and stomach before placing themselves on the boy's small waist and gripped hard, Harry was sure they were going to leave bruises in the shape of fingers, but right now he couldn't care less. All he wanted to was to get this over with so that he could get the hell out of there.

The first time the man pounded into Harry, a grunt of displeasure left the boy's lips. But it wasn't exactly so that the man was particularly big so he got used to the feeling pretty fast. The fat male repeated the action time after time and every time he was inside of Harry a heavy tear ran down the boy's cheek, neither because it hurt nor because he hated the man doing this to him, no the tears that filled his eyes to the brimming were only produced because he hated himself.

"Stupid whore!" The man grunted through gritted teethes as he slammed into the boy once more. "You fucking slut, you like this huh? You love this because you're a stupid fucking whore!" The man practically shouted into Harry's face and spit spewed over it. Mr. Bocombi's face was all red and swollen as Harry looked up at it through teary eyes. A massive blood vein was prominent on the flustered and sweaty forehead. Harry turned his gaze away from the pulsating vein and buried his face in the pillow and he cried silently and he tried not to think about Mr. Bocombi, the pain or how his warm blood ran down his thighs and soaked the sheets and the mattress beneath them.

Finally came the grunt that Harry had been waiting for, the grunt that Mr. Bocombi always made that makes Harry aware that their time together was over. The obese male collapsed on top of Harry who instantly got drenched in stinking fluid. Harry cried as he started to saw on the roped with the knife he held awkwardly in his hand, if he dropped it now he knew that he was dead and that thought scared more tears out of him and made him work faster on the thick ropes.

After what felt like an eternity the rope around his right hand finally loosened and he could, with a harsh yank free it. He cradled it to his blood stained chest as the blood rushed back into his hand excruciatingly. When the feeling had dulled a little he grasped the knife again and tried not to stab the man who was now sleeping on top of him, in the head with it. Instead he started to work on the rope wound around his left hand, desperate to get away from the place. When he lastly had freed that one too he wriggled out from under the man, careful not to wake him and sat on the edge of the bed, ready to take care what was left of his gruesomely abused thighs.

Harry choked on his breath when he looked down at his thighs for the first time since Mr. Bocombi had brought the knife out. He tried not to gag at the sight of what the obese man had done to him, but it was hard to swallow past the huge lump in his throat. His left thigh wasn't as bad as his right, but it was far from good. A gaping hole was bored down into the soft muscles and the wound was practically spewing out blood. He sobbed harshly as he pressed his fingers to the wound but the crimson fluid poured through them and ran down his legs.

Harry desperately searched around the room after something, anything to stop the heavy blood flow but he came out with nothing. He ran his gore tainted hands down his face, collecting numerous of tears and left the pale skin of his face red and clammy. His swollen and tear filled eyes finally landed on the blood stained knife that was laid on the mattress beside him and he grasped it. He stabbed the knife into the sheet and pulled down. A loud noise from when the fabric was ripped into shreds sounded throughout the room. He took one of the shreds and twisted it hard around the wound to stop the blood, it wasn't the most perfect solution but it had to do for now.

The cuts on his right thigh sure weren't as deep as the one on his left. But they sure as hell hurt more. Something inside Harry, something that had fought and made it through all of this shit, broke as the boy watched the word that had been carved into his flesh in a straggly type.

Whore

Harry cried loudly as he pulled another shred of fabric around the wounds, while all he wanted to do was to curl into a little ball and die. But he had to move, he couldn't stay at the heartless' man's house for longer than what was necessary. He got up from the bed as quickly as he could with his injured knees, thighs and his screaming back and started to collect his clothes that were scattered around the floor. He pulled his jeans carefully up his thighs to minimize the pain and then pulled his shirt over his head.

The noise that suddenly sounded through the room made Harry freeze in horror. He threw a quick glance over to the bed and almost let a small cry slide through his lips as he saw the obese male sitting up on the bed, staring at him through bleary eyes. Harry held his breath waiting for the man to lie down and go back to sleep, which worked because with a little bit of scuffle the man pulled the bloody sheets around him and went back to sleep, snoring loudly. Everything spun around in Harry's head and his vision was prickled by dark and light spots as he stumbled over to the fat wallet.

He looked inside and then pulled out all the bills and stuffed them into his pocket before tossing the wallet away and started to stagger out of the room. Harry had his small hand in contact with the cool wall so that if he was about to fall over he could catch himself. He was in the west top wing of the big house and knew that he had to find his way to the staircase which was placed in the middle of the house, down two flights of stairs and the through a long lofty hallway before he was stood in the big entrance.

Harry could hear his heart beat rapidly inside his chest as he made his way through the dark house painfully slow due to the agony trashing though his small body and because of all the blood he'd lost. A heavy shivering broke out through his muscles and his breathing got ragged. He needed help.. he.. he needed Louis. At the thought of the older boy a bright image of Louis was painted in front of his eyes and his beautiful voice floated into the young boy's ears. Harry coughed and had to bend over at the sensation of someone wrenching his stomach with strong hands. He had to place his hands on his thighs were warm and thick liquid had soaked the fabric as he coughed again and then spewed up something that had a dangerous resemblance to blood.

He quickly wiped his mouth with his pale hand and the dark liquid smeared across his skin, he stared down at the mess for a little while, seemingly transfixed. Then he straightened to full length, ignored the ache which was numbing now anyway and continued walking with his fingertips pressed to the wall, though he did feel better now, after vomiting. Harry completely ignored the bloody mess that he'd left behind, Mr. Bocombi had enough servants to take care of that anyway. He just wanted to get out, to get fresh air blowing onto his boiling skin, he felt as if he might burn up. Thick droplets of sweat ran down his forehead and throat, soaking the fabric that clung to his small frame.

Harry stumbled and almost fell again, but he managed to catch himself before the floor came tumbling closer and would smack him in the face. Harry knew that if he fell then he wouldn't get up, and he desperately wanted home to Louis' warm and secure arms. Nothing could hurt him there, everything would be fine as long as he was there with Louis.

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**Okay good enough? ;) Sorry if I mentally hurt/scarred anyone! Not my intention! **

**Thanks for reading! Now pretty please review? xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hiii darlings! Here's chapter 4 for you all! This chapter may be described and detailed but I hope that you're okay with that.. well you don't really have a choice.. anyhow, there's not much violence in this one... I think.. Woop! Woop! If you like it then pretty please review! It means a lot _(and the updates might get more frequent wih encouraging words from you all..) _Hope you'll like it!**

**_Enjoyyyy! :D xxxx_**

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_Harry coughed and had to bend over at the sensation of someone wrenching his stomach with strong hands. He had to place his hands on his thighs were warm and thick liquid had soaked the fabric as he coughed again and then spewed up something that had a dangerous resemblance to blood. _

_He quickly wiped his mouth with his pale hand and the dark liquid smeared across his skin, he stared down at the mess for a little while, seemingly transfixed. Then he straightened to full length, ignored the ache which was numbing now anyway and continued walking with his fingertips pressed to the wall, though he did feel better now, after vomiting. Harry completely ignored the bloody mess that he'd left behind, Mr. Bocombi had enough servants to take care of that anyway. He just wanted to get out, to get fresh air blowing onto his boiling skin, he felt as if he might burn up. Thick droplets of sweat ran down his forehead and throat, soaking the fabric that clung to his small frame. _

_Harry stumbled and almost fell again, but he managed to catch himself before the floor came tumbling closer and would smack him in the face. Harry knew that if he fell then he wouldn't get up, and he desperately wanted home to Louis' warm and secure arms. Nothing could hurt him there, everything would be fine as long as he was there with Louis._

…

Maybe it was the thought of Louis that had Harry stumbling into his arms later that night dawning on morning, all Harry knew was that his mind was chanting LouisLouisLouis with every step he took, and once Harry's mind was set on something, nothing could get in his way from getting it. Well if he saw that it was reasonably realistic for him to get it.

The boy that fell into Louis' arms the moment he opened the door at a ridiculous time in the morning was broken beyond repair. Louis looked down at the boy in horror, this was not he Harry that had left him a couple of hours ago with the promise that everything would get better. He half carried, half dragged the broken shell of the boy he loved into their small and poorly lit bathroom and sat him down on the toilet lid.

Tears were running down both of the boys' cheeks and Harry's weak sobs filled the otherwise silent space. The poor light was enough to light up Harry's bloodstained face and his eyes. His beautiful eyes were red and tears were dripping from them at a hasty speed.

"Harry." Louis whispered when panic seeped through his body and left him cold and struck with fear. Louis eyes widened when his blue eyes fell upon the other boy's pant clad thighs, it was the wrong colour. The fabric should have been khaki, not a deep shade of red as it was now. He let his cold fingertips wander over the soaked fabric, it was warm and wet. Slowly he pulled away his hand and stared down at his fingertips which now were coloured red by a thick and warm liquid.

They both sat there for a while, the little life in Harry's eyes that was left fading away with every second that went and still nothing was done, nothing was done to fix him, to help him. Louis couldn't believe that this was real, he thought that this was merely a nightmare, a tragic and horror filled nightmare. But he was used to them by now, had them every single night his boy wasn't at home. So that's why he let out a small laugh and then got up from the floor. He cast a humor filled look at Harry's trembling body and then took a step towards the door.

If he just ignored whatever that happened in this dream then he might wake up. This terrifying universe might disappear and he could wake up and everything would go back to normal. Harry would still be with his horrible client and Louis would be at home trying to get some peaceful sleep. Well as peaceful as he could get with Harry gone and not with him.

"This isn't real." Louis laughed while shaking his head. "This is just a dream." He added and turned his back to the younger boy. A blood stained hand shot out and seized the shirt of the older boy. The gesture made Louis whip around hastily and his face paled and the humor slipped away from his eyes as realization filled his scared features. "Harry." He gasped once again and it was as if he'd resurfaced from another world, like he'd woken up from that particularly horror filled nightmare because instantly he gripped Harry's face in his hand and started to stroke his damp hair in a way he hoped would be calming.

"Harry baby, tell me what's wrong! Tell me what's hurting." Louis sobbed and curled his fingers into the soft hair. "I want to fix this, I want to help you!" Louis voice was desperate now; his red eyes were wide and disbelieving. He waited a moment but an answer didn't come from Harry's bruised lips, he knew that the further he waited, the further away Harry slipped so he started with the obvious wounds.

Carefully Louis unbuttoned Harry's soaked pants. "Do you think that you can stand a moment for me love?" He asked and willed his voice to be as calm and soothing as possible so that he wouldn't scare Harry further. "I need to get these pants off of you." He whispered and pulled Harry's lanky arms around his neck when the other boy gave him a weak nod. "Hold on tight." Louis urged as he straightened and made a quick job of rolling the sticky pants off Harry's legs as cautiously as he could. When the pants were down at the other boy's knees Louis carefully lowered Harry down on the toilet lid again.

Louis gasped loudly at the sight of Harry's thighs, bloodied shreds of cloth hung loosely from the gore soaked skin and the warm liquid was pumped out through the slashes in a steady pace. Harry let out a groan and the spurred Louis into action, his smooth fingers quickly ran over the assaulted skin while he explained in a steady tone what he was about to do.

"Okay Harry, listen to me. You need to stay awake okay?" Louis started and quickly continued once he'd gotten a nod from the boy, who was now frighteningly pale. "Good, I have to take these away so that I can clean the wounds." He explained and lifted the edge of one of the cloths. Underneath was a dark hole which was spewing out blood in a high rate, Louis gulped and tried not to puke at the gruesome sight. He carefully put the cloth down again and stood up. "I'll just go and get the first aid kit." He stressed and bent down to kiss Harry's forehead. "I'll be back soon." He promised with a small cry and then left the bleeding boy in the bathroom.

Louis hurried out into their small kitchen, sure they might not have food but they had the most necessary thing needed in this job, a first aid kit. Every prostitute knew that they needed one; it was no secret that injuries and wounds came with their job. He tore up the cabinet that contained a green box that had saved their lives many times, and pulled it into his arms before hurrying back to the boy who held his heart.

"I'm back baby, I'm back." He sniffled and the panic in Harry's swollen and bloodshot eyes were instantly soothed which unfortunately made the pain shine through more clearly. "Don't forget to breathe." Louis babbled, when he was pressed or knew that Harry was in pain Louis always talked. He couldn't stand the pressing and pain filled silence, so instead he filled it with chatter where he often explained what he was doing or were about to do.

"Okay love, just take deep breaths and try to think of something else for me." He wiled Harry and then started to unwrap the blood drenched fabric from the younger boy's thighs…

Harry looked down at his abused thighs when Louis' high gasp sounded throughout the small bathroom. Sure the horrific bleeding had slowed down pretty much, but it still looked gruesome and disgusting. The once whole skin of his thighs were now sliced and looked like something taken straight out of a horror movie. It was hard not to vomit at the sight of bloody skin lying pressed against the skin that had fortunately escaped the assault. The edges were uneven and jagged, Harry had to look away as his gut wrenched and churned, he didn't want to puke all over Louis. He actually felt much better now that he was with Louis. The pain was dulled and instead of hurting he felt numb. This was something he valued higher than feeling the pain.

"Harry this is going to hurt I'm afraid." Louis shaky voice floated into Harry's ears and the beautiful sound made him focus on the scared boy who was on his knees in front of him and was tending his wounds. Harry looked deeply into the beautiful ocean blue eyes, that unfortunately were bloodshot and clouded with tears.

"I trust you." Harry muttered and wiped at the other boy's cheek with a bloodstained hand, the blood were drying and small flakes were falling off. This had Harry wondering how long it was since he pressed his hands against his thighs, if the blood was already dry it had to be a while ago.

Harry winched and cried out in pain as a clean cloth with some sort of liquid on it was pressed against the slashes. His leg jerked involuntarily but Louis' strong hands pressed it down.

"I'm sorry!" Louis cried out helplessly. "I'm so sorry." It was horrible to see the one he loved in so much pain, and it was even more horrible to know that it was him that caused the terrible sounds slip through Harry's lips. He was the one who caused the tears to roll down blood smeared cheeks and he was the one who was causing Harry to grip his shoulder harshly, desperate to get away from the pain. But he had to do it, Louis knew that if he didn't do this now then Harry might not be around for long.

In a steady pace the skin around the wounds was cleaned of the dark red fluid, as the skin became clearer the cloth became more bloody and stained. At the time Louis was done wiping of his thighs the once white and clean cloth had turned into a shining red and soggy piece of fabric which Louis quickly threw into the basin.

"Are you done?" Harry sobbed out and wiped at his eyes with the hand he didn't clench Louis shoulder with. He fixed Louis with a tragically hopeful look which instantly dropped when the other boy shook his head sadly.

"I- I have to clean inside the wounds and then put a stinging paste on them, which hopefully will dry them out and stop the bleeding." Louis looked down at his hands as he explained; he couldn't stand the pained look in Harry's eyes. "Okay take a deep breath, because this will hurt." He said and took a bottle in one hand and brought the other hand to the wounds. With careful fingers he spread the flesh and opened the gashes and quickly poured some of the liquid inside. Louis tensed a little at the high scream that was pulled out of Harry but continued to the next gash, he didn't want to extend Harry's pain by taking it slow. Harry's cries for help got quieter and when Louis looked up at the boy it was obvious that Harry was slipping to unconsciousness

"You need to stay awake Harry!" Louis said desperately and shook the other boy lightly. "I'm soon finished." He promised and picked up a small tube and pressed out some sort of paste. It looked like toothpaste Harry noticed and let out a small giggle. Was Louis really about to smear toothpaste on his wounds? "Okay so this is probably going to sting, a lot, but it will dry out the wounds and stop the bleeding." Louis explained and smeared the paste over his hands and the stroke his sticky hands over the gashes.

The paste left his thighs burning, but he didn't have the energy to muster a cry of some sort so instead Harry just stared as the paste clogged up the wounds and stopped the blood from sipping out. It was burning inside the gashes, Harry could almost hear the fizzling from flesh being burnt, and the paste left a weird smell that clung in the air, almost like a fog.

"I'm soon finished babe." Louis assured and started to wrap white gauze around the gashes. The fabric was soft and cool, comforting against his burning skin and Harry had never been so grateful before. Louis slipped the loose ends under another and then he was done. His blue tear clouded eyes found Harry's and for a moment they sat there gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. "You are so good, and so, so brave love." Louis whispered and leaned up so that he could capture Harry's cold lips in a loving kiss.

"I think that we should get some food and water in you before we clean you up and head to bed, how does that sound?" His voice was still shaky and the fear hadn't left Louis' eyes as he spoke softly to Harry. The voice instantly calmed him and he nodded to Louis. Harry found his arms once again wrapped around Louis' neck as the other boy's arms wound around the lower part of his back. Harry jerked away from the touch when Louis' soft hands placed themselves on his swollen back and pain rushed through his body. The warm hands instantly pulled away and landed on his hips instead so that the other boy wouldn't fall.

"What's wrong?" Louis wide eyes were locked on Harry as his face screwed up in a mask of hurt and piercing agony. Harry clenched his eyes shut and breathed heavily for a few seconds to calm himself enough so that he would be able to speak.

His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth as he tried to speak. "It's my back." A breathy noise slipped through his dry and cracked lips. Harry would of laughed at how pathetic he sounded if it wasn't for the fact that it hurt even to breathe. Louis' hands left his hips and Harry immediately missed the contact, but he was soon contempt again as Louis' fingers carefully travelled over his bloodstained stomach, moving over his chest and slipped under his trashed shirt. But they didn't stop there as they usually did, no they continued up to his shoulders and pulled the shirt with them.

Louis gracefully moved around Harry's broken body and had a hand attached to his skin, very similar to Mr. Bocombi, though Louis' touch was comforting and loving where Mr. Bocombi's had been cruel and greedy. The fabric fell to the ground almost in slow motion as Louis eyes caught sight of Harry's abused back. The gasp that fell from pink lips had Harry looking down, hiding in shame and embarrassment. He didn't want to look like this, especially not in front of Louis. But Harry had drawn this upon himself, therefor he had no one but himself to blame.

He caught a glimpse of his brutally molested back in the broken mirror and it was not an appealing sight. The little pride and self-consciousness he had left inside shattered when he lay eyes on the swollen and almost black skin of his back. How weird as it may sound he had actually taken a liking in his back. It was long and slender, you could faintly see the outline of his spine and ribs and the skin was warmly pale and smooth, not a single scar marred the soft surface. Salty tears filled his sore eyes and spilled over, dripping down on the dirty tile floor. He had nothing left now, he wouldn't get any jobs until the bruising went down and that could take ages. Cox wouldn't be happy and when Harry couldn't work Louis had to take his clients too, that's how it worked. If one couldn't work the other had to work twice as much.

One glance at Louis and Harry knew that he was worried about that too. Harry saw that Louis wouldn't be able to handle going through this shit twice a day. Not when he had trouble going through it once a day.

Warm and soft hands placed themselves under his chin and gently pulled his face upwards so that he had no choice but to look into the loving blue eyes that were clouded with tears. "Hey, we'll make it through this." Louis promised with a sad smile playing on his lips. He tried to put as much credibility into his words as possible, but the words sounded as a lie even to him.

"Lou?" Harry's raspy voice floated out into the dark room. It was hours since he'd fell into their apartment bloody and broken. Now he felt much better, though it did surprise him that he was still alive without professional medical help. Harry guessed that the food Louis had made him helped out a lot. They both lay in bed, Harry used Louis' chest as a cushion and he lay partly on his stomach so that he wouldn't expose his back to unnecessary pain by lying on it, and the ice packet that Louis had pressed against it wouldn't be all that comfortable to sleep on.

"Yes love?" Louis questioned back and Harry could see the look of adoration that formed when Louis rested his eyes on him. Harry's brows knitted together, for he couldn't believe why Louis looked at him like that when he was nothing more than a dirty whore. But he decided not to question that, instead he said what he had planned to say in the beginning.

"I don't think that I can take this anymore." He whispered quietly and looked away from the loving eyes. He was sure that Louis would get angry and probably punish him, even though he knew deep down that Louis would never do such a thing, but others did when he was against something, they hit him until he was against the thing he had said in the first place.

"Me neither Haz." Louis sighed and caressed his face with the hand that didn't held the ice package pressed against the bruising. The swelling had fortunately gone down remarkably much, but there was still a big bruise that hurt like hell. He leaned up and pressed a warm kiss against Harry's for head and stayed there for a while with his lips pressed against the warm skin and his eyes closed. "But we'll get away someday and until that day, we've got each other." He whispered and with that promise they both fell into a restless sleep, regardless comforting for Harry who couldn't feel the pain while sleeping.

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**Did ya likey? Please review? **

**Thanks for reading! :D xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Heeeeyyaa! How are you all my lovely darlings? Hope you've all been good when my life's been shit! That's the excuse I'm going to use for the slow update. This chapter is pretty different, well entirely different, but it might explain a few things.. I don't know.. Hope you'll like it! And please please let me know what you think!**

**Enjoy! (well if that's possible with this kind of story) ;D xx**

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Zayn sighed and rolled off the old and smoke smelling couch when he heard a faint knocking on the door. With a lot of effort he rose to full length and stretched, his joints made popping sounds that should have been disgusting but he didn't put in the effort of caring anymore.

"Where are you going son?" The man in the fauteuil asked, his words slurred but Zayn was so used to this by now that he fully understood the man.

"To open the door dad, didn't you hear it knocking?" Zayn sighed and cast a disgusted glance at his father. Not that he would notice he was always oblivious, even to the feelings of his only son, the son that he hurt more often than took care of. But Zayn didn't dare to voice his complaints, because he knew all too well what could happen if he did.

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd heard." His father answered and the let out a loud burp before taking a big swig out of the beer bottle he held in his hand. "When you're finished being a brat, you could fetch a new beer for me yeh?" The man said as he flipped the bottle upside-down and they both watched the last remains of the liquid dribble down and soaked the dirty carpet that their floor consisted of. It wasn't really a question, Zayn would have to oblige if he didn't want to get hit by the man he once saw as his father.

The faint knocking brought him back to reality again and he padded out of the living room and into the hallway. He passed old family photos and looked at them longingly, slowing down his steps as he passed them until he was stood still all together.

The photos displayed a family of six people. The beautiful mother standing next to her handsome husband, both were looking lovingly down at the tree girls in similar pink dresses that were playing happily in front of them. All three of the girls were oblivious to the camera. Their brother was standing a little bit away from the others, probably thinking that they were childish and embarrassing, he didn't want to be in any stupid photo so he stayed sulking in the background.

Now the same boy, though a couple of years older, were wishing that he'd taken the little time he had left after that precise moment and appreciated it. But at that time he didn't know just how little time he would have left with the females in the photo, and of course the man that was smiling in it.

The knocking sounded again through the hallway and informed Zayn about just how much time he'd spent watching the family on the photo. But he couldn't go back to that time now, nor did he want to think about it too much. If he did then he'd just get more depressed then he already was.

The door swung open easily and only gave away a small winy protest, nothing to be concerned about. Zayn's eyes travelled over the blond boy standing in the doorway, he desperately wished that the boy was someone from his school and not one of the persons Zayn knew deep down that the boy was. But he was so familiar with those types of people that he only nodded towards the living room where his father was.

"I'm Niall." The boy muttered nervously before Zayn managed to turn around and head off towards his room so that he could lock himself safely away from what he knew was to take place in the apartment. Zayn was about to flip him of or grunt or something like that as a response, he really didn't want to get involved with any of his father's prostitutes. - The only one he'd gotten remotely close to was this one named Harry, he was a sweet guy and wasn't at all like all the other creeps that his father used - But then he saw how scared the other boy was, not he needed to be scared, his father was always nice and generous to his prostitutes. And he figured out that the boy couldn't have been older than he himself and maybe that's why he took pity in the other lad, and wanted to reassure him that he wasn't alone in this shitty world.

"I'm Zayn." He said and offered the blonde a small and not overly happy smile. The blonde sighed in gratitude before a blinding grin crept up on his smile and his blue eyes twinkled like stars. Zayn staggered back in shock and lost his breath for a few seconds because of how genuine that smile was, so he totally missed the hand that the boy held out before the smile started to falter and got replaced by an awkward grimace.

He quickly grasped the smaller hand and shook it calmly and carefully as if the boy would break from the lightest touch. The grin came back with full force and Zayn thought that he'd never seen such a beautiful thing in his life ever before. It was so blindingly beautiful to him that he couldn't help the small and actually genuine smile that made its way upon his lips.

"Hi." Zayn breathed and wanted to slap himself for sounding so stupid, he hadn't even realized that he still held the other boys hand in his. But it was so soft and warm so he was reluctant to let go of it. Actually he wanted to pick up the boy and run away with him, he wanted to hide him from all the bad stuff, stuff that had probably already happened to the striking blonde.

"Hey." The other boy giggled, equally awkward but he didn't try to take his hand back from where it rested in Zayn's cool hand. He liked holding the other boy's hand, it made him feel secure and they just fit so seamlessly. But then he remembered what he was here for, and his smile dropped from his cute and boyish features. He wasn't allowed a friendship with the other boy; he couldn't allow himself something as pure and warm as a simple friendship. Because he knew that it would only hurt both of them in the end.

Niall pulled his hand out of the other's hand, an action which brought a pained expression upon both of the boys' faces.

"No." Zayn breathed. Which made both of them stop and think for a little while, it shouldn't be like this already. They certainly shouldn't be so attached to one another after they'd just met, only minutes ago. But they were, they couldn't explain it and they were too young to understand it all together. But Zayn just knew that he didn't want anything bad to happen to the boy from now on, it felt wrong to just let go of the boy. He felt a need to protect the other one, no matter how difficult it was going to be. It feared Zayn to say the least; he hadn't felt such a feeling before, at last it was too far away for him to remember. But it wasn't an entirely unwelcome feeling he decided, it was actually rather nice.

Niall's uncomprehending eyes fell upon Zayn as the small word left the tanned boy's lips. "But I have a job to do?" He said, almost questioningly. He had no idea why he offered the boy that information, why he even wanted the boy to protest. Because that's what he wanted; he wanted Zayn to protest and tell him off from starting the job he was here for. Everything was so off and fucked up, either of the boys' knew what to think. All they knew was that they seemed to understand each other, they were stuck in the same boat after all.

"Just stay here for a bit?" Zayn pleaded and his big brown eyes didn't make it easy for Niall to refuse, not that he wanted to in the first place, so he just nodded. Zayn let out a big sigh of relief before grasping the blonde's hand and squeezing it comfortingly. Then he released it and left the boy in the small hallway with a shy smile before he turned around and walked into the kitchen to fetch his father a beer and then he walked into the living room.

He stood in the door opening for a little while, just looking at his father, almost studying him. It wasn't unusual for Zayn to do this; usually he did it when he got home from a tough day in school. He would start with looking for signs that his father was drunk, if he hadn't been to work that day it was almost written in stone that he'd be drunk when Zayn got home.

If he had in fact been to work, which almost never happened, his father would be seething with fury because of it. To be frank, Zayn did rather have a drunken dad that rarely did anything to him, seeing that he was too drunk to even recognize his own son, rather than an angry dad that almost always took his anger out on Zayn. But because his father went to work earlier than Zayn went to school he was able to talk to Liam about it and Liam would let Zayn stay at his for the night, so that he could stay out of his father's way.

When he'd seen the signs that his father was drunk he'd usually go and relax on the other couch, but if his father wasn't drunk and had been to work he usually hurried to his room and lock the door so that he'd be remotely safe.

Then there were the lovely days when his father was both heavily drunk and furious. At first sight Zayn would sigh in relief and go over to the couch, but then he'd get a closer look on his father; nostrils flaring, eyes narrow and red, he would take unusually heavy breaths, his veins would be prominent on his sweat licked skin and in that moment Zayn would usually know that he was screwed.

Then the beating would start, and because his father was so intoxicated, he wouldn't know when it was enough so he would continue his cruel beating. And put sexual frustration on that, and it would lead to his father raping his own son while the son cried and screamed in agony. But fortunately Zayn didn't allow those days to take place that often, he was able to stay a few steps in front of his father.

But it was exhausting and every once in a while he would slip and make a mistake that would lead to weeks of endless staring and whispering in school because of bruises, swelling and open cuts. And it would lead to endless of hours at home that he would spend sitting in the shower and scrubbing at his skin because he felt so dirty, while the tears sloshed down the drain with the blood red water that appeared from him violating his skin, trying to get the terrifying feeling of dirty hands crawling under his skin.

"Who was at the door?" His father grunted and pulled Zayn out from his own world that he tried to escape to as often as he could. Zayn kept his face motionless as he started to lie to the older man's face, after handing him a can of cheap beer. Though the man was certainly too drunk to realize it or even remember this night in the morning, but Zayn couldn't be too careful around the man that had once deserved the title as his father.

"It was just Liam dropping off a few things that I left at his last night. School work you know." Zayn lied skillfully, but he knew that his father would believe him because more often than not Zayn was attached to the hip with the other boy. He loved to spend time with Liam, usually they were at Liam's place even though his situation at home wasn't much better than Zayn's.

Liam lived alone with his older brother and all though Liam himself was very responsible and careful, his brother was not. Liam's brother who was quite a lot of years older than the two boys sold drugs to get him and Liam by. It wasn't exactly the best way to raise his brother, but fortunately Liam was totally different from his sometimes abusive brother and tried his best to stay clear from everything that had with his brother to do.

Both Liam and Zayn's lives were shit, and all though their situations in it were bad, they weren't. They were both two good boys stuck in a shitty situation, a situation that would finally eat them whole if they didn't manage to escape. But life was unfair, a lesson they both had learned from a young age and unfortunately many experiences, and right now there was not much they could do about it.

"Alright, now leave; I don't want you here when my company arrives." His father slurred and glared at him. It wasn't like Zayn wanted to spend time with the drunken man, he rarely did. But every time his father initiated that he didn't want Zayn around his heart broke a little. Because his father was the only one in his family who had any interest in wanting him close what so ever. No one except Liam, Harry, and a rare teacher even spoke with him. So whenever his own father wanted him to disappear all Zayn wanted to do was to curl up and cry.

But he couldn't do that now; he had someone to take care of. Therefor he nodded to his father and turned to walk back to the blonde angel in the hall. But before he managed to get out from the alcohol smelling room he saw the envelope that was lying on the counter by the door. He was used to see those envelopes by now and he also knew the importance of it to the one that was to receive it. Quickly he sneaked a peek at his father who was half asleep by now, his eyes drooping and his mouth hanging slightly open with a drop of drool hanging from his bottom lip. Zayn's hand dashed out swiftly and snatched the envelope before his father could notice and cradled it tightly to his chest.

The boy, much to Zayn's surprise, was still standing by the door when he arrived. It wasn't as if he had expected the boy, Niall, to leave, well he kind of had because who, in their right mind, wanted to be here, doing this with someone so much older and terrifying. But then again they boy might not have any choice.

"Um. Hi." Zayn said lowly, so that his father wouldn't notice him speaking to anybody. The boy looked up, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt that had a few holes in it, and might be a bit dirty.

"Hi." Niall said and then his eyes fell on the envelope that Zayn still had cradled to his chest, his eyes widened and turned greedy in the slightest. Zayn could understand it though, from everything he'd heard of Harry it wasn't one of the greatest jobs and money was literally everything you had and could truly rely on, all though Zayn had heard a lot about a certain boy who took up a big place in Harry's life.

Zayn shyly stuck out the envelope towards Niall who just started at it, not understanding why someone was handing him money before he'd even done anything to please his client. "It's yours." Zayn whispered and tried to hide the tone of disappointment, because soon the other boy would leave, as soon as he'd gotten the money. The boy's hands stopped fiddling with the shirt and reluctantly one of the hands travelled through the air and grasped one of the pointy corners. "I don't know how much there's supposed to be in there, but this is all I have." Zayn explained and the boy looked up with big blue eyes at him.

"But, why?" The boy questioned when he had the envelope cradled against his heart like it was a lifesaver, which it probably was, Zayn thought sadly.

The question shouldn't have been so hard to answer as it was, but he didn't know why, well at least he didn't know how to explain it in a way that didn't make him sound as a complete idiot.

"I don't know." He said after a while. "I guess that I'm giving you a choice. You could either leave with the money and without doing anything that might hurt you. Or you could go in there and give that man what he wants for them." He said with a nod towards the door opening further down the hall. Niall cast a glance at the door opening and sighed when Zayn turned his back at the blond who had obviously made his choice.

"It's not that I want to do it you know, it just feels as if I'm stealing your money if I walk away now without doing anything." He whispered brokenly. "And it's not like I have anywhere to go, I can't go back without him asking me questions and beating me up for stealing."

Zayn had turned back to face Niall as soon as the boy had spoken and now he was left staring at him long after he had finished. "You – you could always stay with me in m-my room." The words just slipped past his lips, he hadn't really meant to say them. This was just so fucked up, not only seconds ago had he offered a prostitute to stay with him, not that anything would happen, of course not! But still, they'd just met. Niall's eyes widened and his breathing stopped for a few seconds. "Nothing would happen of course!" Zayn desperately wanted the boy to understand. But then the boy's eyes travelled to the living room again. "He won't notice. He's too far gone." Zayn promised.

A little part of him wanted Niall to refuse and walk out the door, but when the boy nodded, it felt as if his knees would give out under him.

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**Thank you for reading, I really love you for actually reading so far that you're reading this right now! xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, I'm sorry that it took so long for me to update but this chapter was really hard for me to write, especially the end that took about two hours to write because I broke down all the time, I donte think that I've ever cried this much while writing a fanfic.. i was horrible! **

**Enjoy! xxx**

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He put his index finger in front of his mouth to show the blonde that he had to be quiet; they couldn't be too careful, before he took the pale and warm hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. He led the way to his room quietly and the walk seemed to drag on forever. He could feel the beating of Niall's rapid pulse against the skin of his wrist, but he couldn't lie, his own pulse was drowning out every other sound that could have signaled throughout the house.

He was scared, he couldn't deny it. He was really fucking scared, but they had come too far for him to turn back and either kick the boy out in the rain or leave him for his father to feast on. He couldn't do that to the boy who was gripping his hand as if his life depended on it.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't scared as hell, he was scared that his father would get so disappointed over the fact that his "company" had stood him up so that he'd go to Zayn either to take his anger out on the defenseless boy or to get what he wanted from his prostitute that didn't show up, it had happened all too many times before. That was one of the many reasons that he didn't like the prostitutes that his father ordered, when they stood his father up, his father would go to him.

He was scared that his father would find Niall hiding in his room and then he'd take his inevitable anger out on the two of them. It wouldn't be a pretty sight, and to be honest Zayn actually feared his life if that was to happen.

But as he figured out earlier, he would take the chance and risk falling victim under his father's wrath. He would do it for the boy he was dragging behind him. A quick look into the living room told Zayn that his father was in a deep sleep, snoring heavily, which meant that he and Niall could pass the door opening without fearing that they would get noticed. But to not push their luck, they kept as quiet as possible.

Niall's sweaty hand tightened its grip on Zayn's hand when they passed the door opening. He saw the man lying on the couch and recognized him instantly; Mr. Malik. He'd had him before but there were so many different names and faces floating around in his head from different appointments and it was hard to pair the right name with the right name. The first few times he'd had Mr. Malik the man was very nice to him, sure he was drunk, but he was a kind drunk that always made what was best for Niall and made sure that he didn't hurt too much.

But then Mr. Malik changed, at one appointment there was a fire burning in his eyes. He'd trained Niall with such a cruel gaze that the young boy had to take a little step back from the sheer power of it. The look had made Niall uneasy and so, so nervous and when he was nervous he couldn't relax his muscles, no one could, it was impossible you were always on the edge. So when the man were practically raping him it hurt so much more than it used to, just because he was so scared and tense. Mr. Malik had also hit him, sure he was used to being hit, but this time it was someone else's fists and palms, someone that didn't really know him and he didn't feel that he deserved those punches. I hurt more coming from someone he'd trusted and actually had put a bit of faith in. Niall wasn't stupid, he knew that no matter what he couldn't get away entirely from this life, but Mr. Malik seemed to help him in some ways and it was dumb of him to hope, but a little part of him wished that Mr. Malik would save him, take him away from that life.

When Mr. Malik had turned into that other man, the man Niall didn't recognize Niall felt as if he'd been betrayed and he just wanted to flee. The little hope he had left for him getting a fairly easy escape was crushed and his dreams of becoming remotely normal disappeared into thin air that he desperately wanted to grasp. He wanted to hide from the cruel man, but he couldn't he had a job to do.

Niall looked up on the other boy; he was slightly taller than he himself, but to be fair Niall was a pretty short for his fourteen years of age. The other boy was pretty, Niall could easily say that because Zayn was very beautiful with his jet black hair, huge brown eyes and long lashes, lashes that were definitely longer than any of the girls' that he'd met on the brothel he visited sometimes. And they had all fake lashes; Niall had a feeling that this boy didn't have fake lashes.

His lips was also something that he'd noticed fairly early, they were beautiful in some weir sort of way, and the way they formed words enchanted Niall, and made him only look at them. The other boy must have found him weird, but he was nice enough not to make a comment about it. His skin was also something that Niall noticed and he couldn't help but envy the smooth, clear and tan skin of the Zayn's face.

His own skin wasn't really something to be proud of, like most boy's his age the skin of his face were marred with spots, it was also awfully pale and whenever he blushed or were used by his customers his face flushed bright red. And it wasn't as if he blushed beautifully like he'd seen ladies do - not that he compared himself with a lady - no it was a bit disturbing really and more often than not he'd sweat like crazy. Not epically attractive huh?

Zayn led the way into his room and even though they were both standing inside the room Niall still hadn't let go of his hand. "Um, so this is my room." He said and squeezed the pale boy's hand shortly, urging him to let go. "Make yourself at home." He continued awkwardly when the boy still hadn't let go of him. Shockingly blue eyes snapped to meet his when he'd uttered the last word and a beautiful pink shade dusted his pale cheeks.

Whiteout any further warning the other boy slung his arms around Zayn's neck and snuggled close into his neck. Zayn was a bit taken aback by the hug, he hadn't been held that way in a very long time, he figured that Liam's hugs didn't count since they were bro hugs and they were both too cool for this close hugs. But the grasp was so was and inviting, comforting on so many levels so carefully he slid his arms around Niall's waist.

"No one's never said that to me before." The boy whispered and his hot, damp breath washed over the skin of his neck and made his shudder. "Me and home doesn't fit together." He continued and his words wavered which made Zayn wonder if Niall was crying. What Niall had revealed was heartbreaking; no one should ever have to feel like that. Sure he didn't talk about his home as a home but it was still somewhere to live, to get shelter and once, long ago it were somewhere to share love with the people who wanted him. It was obvious that Niall hadn't and maybe never had a home like that. And that made Zayn feel almost guilty for reasons he didn't know.

"It'll be alright." He whispered into the other boy's hair and held him a little closer. He didn't know what made him press his lips to the soft blond hair, but he felt good and he felt like he helped the boy he wanted to know more about.

After a few moments they let go though, Niall looked almost ashamed as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. When he looked up at the taller boy his eyes was shining almost impossibly bright and somewhere in the back of Zayn's mind he wished that he could see those beautiful eyes more often.

"I'm sorry." Niall stuttered and blushed. Zayn found it adorable and gave the boy a small smile before he turned to the door and shut it silently. Niall's eyes widened at the sight of the many locks that littered the door, some broken and had wood from the door frame hanging from the chain. Zayn sighed by the reaction but locked them all none the less, well the ones that could be locked.

"It's for my own safety." He whispered ashamed as he placed a stool under the handle so that it was impossible to push down without breaking something. And if something was broken then Zayn would've woken up from the noise with enough time to hide.

Niall was still stood staring at Zayn when the black haired boy shuffled over to the bed with the blue bedding and sat down tiredly. A fourteen year old boy wouldn't have to think about his own safety in his home. He shouldn't have to hide and protect himself from his father.

Niall slowly walked forward towards Zayn's slightly shaking frame and then sat down on the soft bed next to him. With a tentative hand on Zayn's shoulder he opened his mouth and took a deep soothing breath. "What's happened to you, what has he done to you?" He asked carefully, not wanting to step over some sensitive line. "It's not as if I can judge you." He continued with a shaky smile.

"Oh yes you definitely can." Zayn breathed, almost too low for Niall to catch. Then Zayn got up from his sitting position to move around the small bed and pulled out a little stuffed monkey, the stuffed animal was dirty and torn and it had even lost one eye. But Niall decided against making a comment about it, he still had Michael when times were rough so why would he make a comment about a stuffed animal when he himself had an imaginary best friend who he sometimes talked to.

"Do you want something else to sleep in? A t-shirt?" Zayn asked and walked over to the small closet and picked out two t-shirts without waiting for Niall's answer. He turned to the blond boy with slightly glassy eyes. "My mum has always been a strong believer in God and all that religious shit. Sometimes it was good, sometimes not so good. She was very narrow-minded and everything the scripture said was right, I loved her of course, I love her very much but she can't accept new things, she can't accept different things." His voice was laced with bitterness as he spoke about his mother, so that made it hard to believe that he loved her. Zayn handed the shirt to Niall and then pulled his dirty shirt over his head and replaced it with the new clean one, while Niall just sat there motionless but listening to another person's horrible story that they needed to tell someone.

"And because of that, freaking out was an understatement when she walked in on me kissing another boy when I was eleven. I was just curious and well, when you grow up on this side of town you grow up so much earlier than the spoiled brats in the better parts. You just do everything much earlier and experience things you're actually too young to experience, I mean my first time was when I was twelve and a half and that's not really the normal age to have your first sexual experience with another person."

"Unless you were forced to." Niall mumbled darkly and looked down at his torn shoes.

"Um, yeah… I'm sorry." Zayn's voice was filled with remorse as he put his hand on the blond boy's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Aren't you going to use the shirt?" He asked to take away some of the sudden tension.

"Well…" Niall started uncomfortably, he had already accepted money from the son he didn't know Mr. Malik had without doing anyone any favor, and he couldn't take his clothes too on top of that. "I don't want to take things that aren't mine."

"Please take it; it would make me feel a lot less of as dick because of my dad." Zayn explained glaze eyed and there were a pleading note tinged into what he'd said. Niall just nodded and pulled his old shirt over his head just like Zayn had, he ignored the look that Zayn might have cast him because of the scars that were scattered over his back, they came with the job and there weren't much he could do about it. Then he pulled on the new one, it smelled clean and it was so soft, he didn't mean to but the sigh of pleasure just slipped through his lips.

The two boys both jumped out of their jeans and with a little convincing Niall slipped under the duvet with Zayn, after the older boy had double checked that all the locks were locked and that they were safe. Zayn pulled the torn monkey close to his chest and then continued his life story with a ragged breath.

"She tried desperately to change me, but being the stubborn ass that I was I did everything that I wanted to do and didn't care that she didn't like it, I handled after my heart and that was very rude to her." The hand that he had laid on the mattress between them was shaking and his eyes were filled with tears. Niall didn't exactly know what to do, but when he carefully laid his own hand on top of the shaking one he instantly felt that he'd done right because Zayn took a deep steadying breath and the shaking slowly faded.

"Sure it hurt every time she shouted that I was a sinned and a disgrace to the family. Dad didn't say much on the matter, I think he liked seeing me get punished because I like people of the same gender. I had three sisters too, the two younger ones was too young to understand so of course they didn't say anything, they only cried when I cried and tried to comfort me. But my older sister, she tried, she tried to stand up for me." A bitter laugh slipped through his lips. "She even got into trouble just to take the focus off me for a little while. She was everything I had at the time, she and Liam was the only ones who understood me."

"When she decided that she couldn't cure me she left, she said that she couldn't have a son who was gay and she couldn't live under the same roof as a sinner. Dad thought that she'd gone too far by then and tried to stop her from being so cruel to me. But as I said, she's a very narrow-minded woman. She would have it her way, so she took my sisters and left me and my dad, because when he stood up for me he turned into a hypocrite, because "How could he stand up for that filthy animal!" So she walked out and I haven't seen her or my sisters ever since."

A lone tear slipped out from his eye and another clung delicately from his thick lashes. Zayn wasn't one for crying about things that happened in the past, he wasn't much for crying at all. Usually he'd just turn into an empty shell and let his destructive thoughts eat away on him.

"Ugh, I don't know why I'm crying!" He groaned as more tears trickled down his cheeks. He quickly buried his face in the stuffed monkey and rubbed away the tears while successfully hiding from the blond boy's sympathetic eyes.

"Because you're hurt, it's a normal reaction." Niall said softly and pulled the duvet closer to his chin and gripped it tightly with his fists. He was never one to deal with tears in a good way, unless they were his own.

"No, it shows weakness and people feed of others weakness." Zayn groaned again. "I can't show weakness!"

"It's alright sometimes." Niall whispered, he didn't want to argument with his new.. what? Friend? Hardly. Anyhow he just wanted Zayn to feel better for a little while at least. "Okay, what happened after your mother left? Of course you don't have to tell me, I just think that you need to tell someone, to share the burden of knowing." Zayn sighed and gave Niall a watery smile.

"At first it was alright, I thought that she would realize her own stupidity and return, I think dad thought so too, but when that didn't happen he started to blame me. We had to move to this apartment because we couldn't afford the house anymore. Then he lost his job and everything went downhill, for me at least." Fresh tears welled up in the dark eyes, but Zayn didn't bother to wipe them away this time. "Then he started to take his anger out on me, he beat me to a bloody mess and I couldn't go to school for days, and since I couldn't show myself outside he just made better work of the bruising he'd already made. The only one who cared was Liam, he's still the only one. Then he got a new job, which wasn't the best and it left him furious and he only blamed me for it."

"The first time he raped me, I couldn't understand what was happening, it hurt so much, like I was being ripped in two. I bled so much and during the entire thing he shouted that it was my own fault, that I deserved it and that I probably liked it being the little faggot that I was." By now Zayn was crying and chocked on his own sobs. Niall had a hard time to comprehend what horrible things that had happened to the beautiful boy and it actually hurt him to hear the story. He shuffled closer to Zayn and wrapped his arms around the shaking boy. "I put in the first lock after that, but that didn't hold him back for long." He sobbed harshly into Niall's neck.

"It'll be alright." Niall tried his best to soothe the hulking boy, neither realizing that the volume of their voices had risen. Niall was just about to card his fingers through the jet black hair when he heard someone grumble deeply and suddenly it seemed as if time slowed down and all the focus were on the door handle that suddenly started to shake violently against the stool that hindered it from being pushed down enough. Dread and fear filled Niall, and both he and Zayn froze, they were paralyzed both gripping tightly at the other.

The shaking was frantic but it stopped as sudden as it started and it didn't continue. Everything was silent throughout the apartment and they both managed to summon enough courage to peak over the edge of the duvet.

Everything looked just as peaceful as before, the blue door with the many locks and the stool was still standing in the same place as when Zayn put it there. Relief flushed over his tense body. Maybe they had just imagined it, maybe this was just a very vivid dream…

They both screeched when the loud bang sounded filled the room and the entire wall that the door was attached to shook. The bang repeated itself alongside deep groans.

"Zayn! Open the fucking door!" A deep voice bellowed through the once silent house. "Where the hell are the money to that fucking prostitute? If you took them then I swear to God that I will kill you now! I will fuck you open and then I will fucking break your neck you little son of a bitch!" Niall could see the enraged man in his head, red in the face and blood veins prominent from using so much force while trying to break the door down and from the shouting.

"Your mother was right, we should have put you down like the fucking animal you are when we had the chance!" He screamed through the door. "I will break both your necks, I know that the little fucking whore is in there with you! You both deserve to die and burn in hell! What I'm about to do is so fucking weaker than you both deserve!" And this was the first time that Niall had genuinely feared for his own life.

Zayn's hands desperately clawed at his face and when he looked at the other boy, he stared into two scared pools of brown.

"Hide."

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**Thank you for reading now review! :D xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

_**He hadn't choosen this life, another cruel force had. Though it was a cruel force that he couldn't blame, for Harry knew that this was all his own fault in some twisted way or another. Beeing a prostitute was a hard and sometimes painful job, but it had to be done, right? And to be honest, his life had some lighter moments. They weren't big and they were very few, but they meant so much to Harry, Louis meant so much to Harry. **_

**This is a Larry Prostitute!AU fic, it's not going to be happy. **

**Warnings:** Prostitution, underage sex, abuse, rape, pretty graphic violence, well pretty much anything terrible in this world.. _Sorry if I offend anyone.. xxxFanny_

**AN: **First of all, I am really and truly sorry that this took such a long time to write, but I haven't got that much time to write anymore and when I finally did have the time it was such a bitch to write! But anyway, it's here and it's short and definitely not the best I've done. And I'm sorry to say that you shouldn't expect a new update soon. But I'll do my best and we'll hope that's enough right? :) Feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

_Warnings for this chapter: Graphic abuse and incest._

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Niall slowly blinked his eyes open; he was sore all over and was sickly stiff in his back and neck. It hurt so badly, and for a few moments he just couldn't place why it did. He paused a moment to look at his surroundings and see if they might give him a clue, but no such luck since he couldn't see a shit. It was too dark, well except for a small silver of yellow light near the floor, or at least that was what Niall thought it was. His head was pounding so badly and all he wanted to do was to curl up and fall asleep for a couple of years or so. Bears must have an easy life, he thought as he tried sitting up straighter because his back was just killing him – they slept most of the year, at least when it was cold, and for the rest of the year they ate so that they would be able to sleep for so long. Yeah, being a bear would have been nice.

He put his hands down on the lumpy floor so that he would be able to push himself up in a more comfortable position and let out a girlish and embarrassing yelp when the floor moved and gave away a sleepy grumble.

After slapping his hands over his mouth to hinder the high pitched sound he managed to calm his racing heart enough to think clear. He had woken up in more compromising situations before; it wasn't exactly new to him. But he'd never experienced someone so soft and so young sounding as what had given away the grumble. His cold and slightly trembling fingers traced over warm surface, it was smooth and soft and not really texture like.

He continued to caress the smooth object, trying to figure out what it was. Sure it might have been a bit weird, but he had just woken up and had no idea where he was. Soon enough his eyes had gotten used to the dark though and he could finally see what it was that he was caressing.

Niall's eyes widened and he quickly jerked his hand away when he saw that he was practically clawing some poor bastard's smooth stomach. Then he remembered the boy from the night before. _Zayn_, the boy with those deep and dark eyes, that had seemed so scared and that ghost of a smile that was so blindingly pretty.

Niall stared at the little piece of warm, smooth skin from where Zayn's shirt had ridden up when they were asleep. By some strange urge he wanted to touch it again, to caress it and make the other boy feel appreciated and like he was enough. But he knew that he couldn't do that, firstly he'd just met the other boy, secondly they were both way too young to experience such things – and yes Niall knew how stupid that sounded next to their earlier experiences – thirdly; he'd just met the boy!

Zayn shifted in his sleep, murmuring and frowning, a little wrinkle appeared in his forehead and Niall instantly knew that he was having a dream, bad or good he didn't know. Zayn's arms reached out and the whimpering increased.

Minutes passed and the whimpering from the other boy didn't subside, if anything they increased even more than before. Niall started to panic, what if Zayn's father heard him, what if he'd break the door down and find them. But somewhere in the back of his mind Niall had heard that you shouldn't wake people who are distressed in their sleep, because that could make some serious damage… Or was that for sleepwalkers? He decided quickly that he didn't want to take the risk of damaging the beautiful boy so when tears started to dribble down his tanned cheeks he pulled the other boy closed to him and held him there, hugged him to let him know that he's not alone.

Whether it helped or not he didn't know, but he think it helped at least a little since Zayn stopped crying. He carded his small and skinny fingers through the jet black hair and rested one hand on his chest so that he could feel when Zayn's heart beat slowed down.

"It's alright." Niall whispered into Zayn's ear. "Everything will get better, you'll get out of here somehow and you'll live on to be happy. No one will be able to hurt you anymore. It'll be alright." He didn't know what brought him to say these words, but Zayn's heart did calm down, so it worked. He just wanted to help the tanned boy in the little ways that he could.

…

_The man was beating him, hit him so hard and Zayn didn't know what to do. He couldn't run, because there was nowhere to run. He couldn't hide, because there was nowhere to hide and he definitely couldn't fight back. It was impossible, the man was so much bigger than him and every time he hit him he grew bigger and bigger, though Zayn did notice that the light that the man's heart consisted of was fading with every hit he placed on Zayn's body. _

_The creature didn't have a face, where a mouth, nose and eyes were supposed to be it were nothing, just smooth tanned skin. There was a mop of black hair on top of its head, styled in a quiff not much unlike his own hair. It was wearing a black shirt and black jeans and some weird cape sort of thing, it seemed to be made of smoke or fog or something because id didn't have any substance. The creature was already three times bigger than its usual size and it only grew bigger, and every punch just got harder than the last. _

_The creature he looked up through tear filled eyes at was his father, but still it wasn't him. This was some monster, a faceless monster that hurt everything it came in contact with. It fed of fear and hurt and Zayn tried his best not to give it to him. But how could he not? _

_Even though the monster didn't have a mouth it could still shout horrible stuff to the child at his feet. And the things that were screamed at Zayn hurt more than any beating ever could. But as always he'd already heard all of these things before so he knew how long of the torture he'd need to stand before the familiar sound of a zipper being drawn open sounded. _

_He slowly rolled onto his stomach, his entire body aching but he tried his best to ignore it, ignore the monster and the darkness that was pressing on them from all sides But he wouldn't show weakness._

_Tears somewhat made his vision blurred as he looked longingly out into the darkness and he wished that it could pull him in and that it would give him rest for the rest of his pathetic existence. It could protect him from all the pain that life brought him. _

_All of a sudden the scenario changed, well not really the scenario, it was still pitch black and he couldn't see only feel. But it was freezing, it was so, so cold and he could feel his bare skin scraping against the hard and uneven surface that he was lying on. He was feeling the small pointy stones scraping and digging their way into his tanned skin. _

_All too soon came the sound that he was prepared to hear but were frightened of and he couldn't help but jerk and start to fidget. The sound had haunted his dreams and mocked him while awake. No matter how many times he'd heard it and probably will hear it, it didn't make any difference because he'd never get used to it and in a way he knew that he would always be scared of it and assume the worst whenever he'll hear it again. _

_Greedy hands gripped harshly at his shoulders and he gasped loudly, it was more of a sob than a gasp because at this point it had gone too far to just be apathetic. The monster still wouldn't leave him alone. So he wasn't embarrassed when the tears, shaking and sobs increased and made it hard for him to breathe. _

_Air wasn't necessary he'd learned, the sooner he fainted and lost his consciousness, the sooner he'd be away from the monster and this horrible darkness. He'd be welcomed to a new more numb darkness that wouldn't hurt him. _

_He held his breath as the monster started to push into his little fragile body. It felt as if he was being ripped apart, it hurt so much and he thought that he was going to puke from the trashing pain in his abandonment. He couldn't take this, being constantly abused by a monster and he would never escape. He couldn't. _

_The monster continued to pound into him and he cried out loudly as warm, thick liquid trailed down his thighs and the metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. He pulled up his forearms and pushed his face into them as he cried. While the monster continued his erratic movements and clawed with long, dirty nails at his back and sides. _

_Finally everything got fainter, the sounds, the smell, the feeling of his father moving inside him and clawing at his skin, and finally the pain. He'd reached the point where his head and lungs were craving the precious oxygen they needed to keep him conscious. But he wouldn't give in; he would reach his Elysium and get away from all the pain. _

_Just before the pressure became too much he spared a thought to the blond angel and dearly hoped that the boy would exist in the Elysium that he hoped to reach. _

_…_

Zayn awaked with a rough jerk and a desperate cry left his lips. Tears were streaming down his red blotchy cheeks and his chest was moving in an erratic pace as he breathed harshly. Soft hands were gripping his arms and a heavy weight was placed on his stomach, he struggled harder to get away from the grip, still thinking that it was claws doing their best to hurt him. If he only could get past the panic and that ghastly feeling that someone was trying to hurt him.

"Zayn!" The voice was loud and troubled, but somehow soothing for the distressed boy. "Breathe for goodness sake!" The voice was sweet and maybe his dream was heard, maybe he'd reached his Elysium and was now sharing it with the boy that was comforting for him in a pretty strange way.

He slowly opened his swollen and stinging eyes and was for a moment confused as to why it was so dark. He did certainly believe that _The Paradise _would be sunny and light as air. "Zayn calm down." Niall was speaking lower this time, needing the boy to be calm so that he could talk to him. The soft but surprisingly strong hands left his wrists and Niall placed them on the crying boy's chest instead.

"What are you doing?" Zayn asked after he'd wiped away the embarrassing tears and had calmed his breathing. But the panic was still visible in his eyes. And the other boy still hadn't moved from his position on his stomach

"Feeling your heartbeat, I'm waiting for it to slow down." Niall stated as if it was the most obvious explanation in the history of explanations."

"Erm… Why?" Zayn is feeling dumb by asking, but he had to anyway. Not that he had anything against the other boy; well that he was sitting on him was a bit strange. But the Irish boy gave away calm and the security that Zayn sought.

"You were in panic and were trashing about just moments ago, I don't want you to go back to that state again. If you do you might seriously hurt me or yourself for that matter." Niall said and then moved away from Zayn's stomach. The younger boy placed himself cross legged on the floor next to him and leaned back against the closet door and all the while staring at the black haired boy with a quizzed expression.

"What were you dreaming?" He asked quietly. "What is haunting you in your dreams that make you react in that way?" Zayn looked into the blue innocent eyes and was reluctant to tell the other boy.

"My father." He muttered and the boy gave his a sympathetic look that held fear, understanding and comfort. Niall gave his a short nod that urged him to continue. "I told you what my father does to me sometimes, right? I think I told you that last night. Anyway the dreams are a bit different, but not much. Everything is dark and I've got nowhere to escape." His hands were trembling as he retold the nightmare to his companion.

"It's always the same thing that's happening and in some weird way I can control myself, I'm aware of what's happening. I can fight and cry and just give up, but I can't change what the outcome is going to be even though I know what it'll be. I'm so powerless and everything is too realistic." He took a deep breath to calm down a bit so that he could continue. Before he started to talk he took a moment to look up at Niall. The other boy, too, had tears in his eyes that made the clearer and more blue. One of his soft hands snaked its way into Zayn's slightly bigger one and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort.

"He wasn't real though, or well, he looked more like a monster. He didn't have a face… No, he did but his mouth, eyes and nose were covered in a layer of smooth grayish skin, though, he could still scream at me and make these inhumane, strangled sounds. And he had claws that were tearing my skin apart. I held my breath and knew that I would soon faint by the lack of oxygen and the pain. I welcomed the numb darkness when it finally reached me, but that's when I woke up I guess."

Niall looked down at the desperate and utterly defeated boy. He wanted to help but he knew that he couldn't, and everything he did manage to do in favor for the other boy wouldn't matter in the long run either way. "I'm sorry." He whispered and brought their entwined hands to his lips and kissed the tanned one softly. "But it'll be alright somehow."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I don't but I hope that God have something better than this planned for you in the future. I hope that he would spare the good people and punish them that hurt other willingly." He whispered.

"I don't believe in God." Zayn responded bitterly. If there really was a God, why wouldn't he do anything to help him, save him?

"Me neither actually. But sometimes I need to believe that a greater power have something better planned for me, that I will get a better life situation and that I will get justice. I just need to believe that not everything is up to me." He smiled bitterly but Zayn understood in some sense.

"Guess that I'm just invincible." He didn't mean for Niall to hear the last comment, but that was what he felt at the moment, he just couldn't believe that there was a God and that he allowed this to happen to him, Niall and Liam too. If there truly was a God, Zayn sure as hell didn't hope that he would allow stuff like this to happen to innocent children. So no, he couldn't believe in God, unless he had abandoned Zayn and the rest of the invincible children.

"You're not invincible Zayn; you're just momentarily hidden just like me. But I see you." Niall breathed and placed his soft lips on Zayn's sensitive skin again. And maybe, just maybe, Niall was right. They just needed to be found.

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**Thank you for reading! And hopefully reviewing?**

Now here's the deal, I think that this account will be shut down soon because I've got a perfectionist/fanfiction police/someone stupid who actually reads the rules and report pople for small mistakes that no one care about, on my throat. Who are the reason for the deleating of my other account. I've had arguments with this person and he/she wants me to take down this account too. So this might be the last update on this account, I've argued a lot and can't be bothered to give a fuck anymore. _Just report me please and then you'll finally get rid of me!  
_But if there's still anyone out there that wants to read the story you can find it on my tumblr page  
_ .com _You're very welcomed there!

Thank you for keeping up with me all this time though! You are lovely and I guess this is farewell if you can't be bothered to go to my tumblr. :)xxx

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